


In which Gil suffers an ambush

by Overlord_Bethany



Series: Always Send Knives [9]
Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, Paris hijinks, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 19:02:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17493503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overlord_Bethany/pseuds/Overlord_Bethany
Summary: His day just got longer.





	In which Gil suffers an ambush

Gil returned to silent hallways in the dormitory. Odd. It wasn’t that late, was it? The door to his room stood slightly ajar, but only darkness and silence lay within. All his senses alert, he pushed the door open. How could this be anything but a trap?

He stepped into the room.

A sharp jab caught him in the stomach. Snarling his displeasure, Gil seized the offending object—a booted foot—and hurled it away from him. He switched on the lights. Bangladesh Dupree twirled to a stop, clutched her stomach, and laughed at him.

“Serves you right!” she crowed, altogether too pleased with herself. “When you walk into a dark room, you should expect to get hit.”

“I _did_ expect to get hit!” Gil objected. He stomped over to his desk and dropped into the chair. “I’m not sparring with you right now.”

“Ohoho!” An evil glint in her eye, Dupree trotted after him. “Your date didn’t go well?”

Date? Gil only just stopped the question from spilling out into the open, where it would do nothing but give Dupree more ammunition. He reached for a textbook. “It wasn’t a date. We had coffee and talked about school.”

Dupree placed both hands on the back of his chair and leaned over him. “Lies.” Gil could feel the weight of her toothy grin. “Want me to go fetch him for you?”

“What!” Gil started up from his chair. His head collided with the underside of Dupree’s jaw, and she rewarded him for the inadvertent uppercut by giving the chair a sharp twist, sending him sprawling on the floor.

“But first—” Dupree righted the chair across him and plopped herself down on it, planting both feet on Gil’s floating ribs. “You’re going to tell me how you messed up your date.”

“I didn’t mess up!” Gil objected. It was a lie, of course. They had both messed up, but Dupree hardly needed to know that. “And it wasn’t a date.”

“Suuuuure it wasn’t.” Dupree leaned forward, digging her feet in, pressing more of her weight on Gil’s ribs. And his liver. And his spleen. “Details.” She gave one heel a twist. “Now.”

Gil weighed his options. If he gave in now, Dupree would almost certainly expect him to divulge every detail of his personal life in the future. He strongly disapproved, especially in the event of an actual date—hey, it could happen—and yet he did crave a friendly ear. Dupree was the best he had.

“We both said stupid things,” he conceded. “Then his cousin showed up and ruined my apology.”

“Tell me you at least planned a second date.”

Gil tamped down his irritation with as much force as Dupree exerted against his ribs. “We’re doing a school project together.”

“Not good enough.” With a gleeful glint in her eye, Dupree gave her other heel a twist. “Did you take him on a moonlit rampage? Walk him home? Kiss him goodnight?”

“Dupree!”

“You are _so_ boring.” Dupree stomped on Gil’s diaphragm as she bounced to her feet. “Lucky for you, you have the world’s best wingman.” While Gil lay on the floor fighting for breath, Dupree frolicked toward the door. “I’ll fix everything. Just stay here and try not to screw up anything else.” She waggled her fingers in farewell, and then she was gone.

Gil staggered to his feet and stumbled to the door, but Bangladesh Dupree moved inhumanly fast when she wanted to. The hallway beyond was vacant and silent once more. With a groan, Gil closed the door.

This would not end well.


End file.
